Abomination
by FyreBrande
Summary: One shot that popped in my head after reading a certain mage's page on the DA wiki. And, ya know, the DA universe ain't mine. Several minor characters in this did come outta my head for this one, though.


Mama is screaming. "I want him out of here! I don't want that abomination in our house one more sodding minute!"

"All right, all right!"

**oOo**

He looks up as Papa comes out of the kitchen. Papa is frowning. "What's wrong, Papa?"

His father tries to smile. "Nothing's wrong, son. Come, let's go for a walk." A walk is treat enough he doesn't question why he gets one on a night Mama's so mad. There's nothing special about today. Maybe Mama just wants him gone for a while. Mama doesn't like him now. He knows this. She hasn't called him by name since last night. Just 'Boy'. All day today, it's been 'Boy'. Like that's his name now. He wonders why she doesn't like him anymore.

"Papa, where are we going?" He hurries to keep up with Papa's long stride.

"I need to talk to Gerran about the table he wants me to fix." Papa notices that he's having trouble keeping up, and swings him up onto his shoulders. He feels special. Papa hasn't let him ride on his shoulders since he turned three. Said he was too big, and anyway, the Maker gave him legs for a reason.

"Why didn't Mama come?"

Papa hesitates. "She...She had things she needed to do in the house."

"Is she mad at me?"

Papa doesn't answer. Instead, he starts whistling as he walks down the street. Then he stops. "Now, when we get there, I want you to wait in the Chantry for me. All right? Can you do that?"

He nods, proud that Papa trusts him enough. Mad as he makes Mama sometimes, she worries too much and never lets him out of her sight. "How long are you gonna be, Papa?"

"I don't know, son. It depends on how willing Gerran is to listen to reason. But you stay in the Chantry 'til I come back. Maybe you can show the Revered Mother the...new trick you did last night."

"You mean this?" He lets go of Papa's tunic with one hand and wiggles his fingers until flames shimmer across his palm.

"Yes, that. Don't do it so close to my head, son," Papa chuckles quietly.

He balls his hand into a fist, extinguishing the flames. "Sorry, Papa."

"No harm done. I'm sure the Revered Mother would be impressed, if you get the chance to show her."

"Okay, Papa."

"But don't distract her if she's busy."

"I know, Papa."

When they reach the Chantry, Papa lowers him to the ground before crossing the street to Gerran's house. After Papa's out of sight, he goes inside and sits in the back pew of the sanctuary. He's so quiet and so small that no one pays attention to him, or even notices him, for a really long time. He starts to wonder when Papa's going to come and get him. He remembers what Mama screamed in the kitchen and then wonders _if_ Papa is going to come and get him. Suddenly he's scared.

Somehow, though, when the minutes turn into hours, he falls asleep. He can't help it; it's so late and he's _so_ tired, and Papa still hasn't come back to get him. And it's better than crying. He's too old to cry. Or at least that's what Mama said last week when he fell and scraped his knee.

He doesn't know how long he's been sleeping on the hard wooden pew when someone gently shakes his shoulder.

"Where are your parents?" a strange voice asks. When he looks up, the Revered Mother and a Sister are leaning over the back of the pew.

He realizes the Mother asked him a question. "Mama's home. Papa tol' me to stay here while he talked to Gerran."

The two women look at each other. "He left you alone?" the Mother asks. "How old are you, boy?"

He sits up straighter, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. "I'm five...and three quarters," he adds, as if the fraction of a year makes all the difference in the world.

"Why did your father tell you to come here instead of staying with him?" This question comes from the Sister, who looks like Mama, but younger.

Suddenly he feels nervous. Why are they asking him so many questions? Did he do something wrong again? "Papa..." The lump in his throat forces him to try again. "Papa..." To keep himself from crying-only babies cry, after all-he stares at his hand until the flames dance again, like they did earlier.

"Oh," both women breathe at the same time, exchanging a look that says volumes he can't understand.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." The Revered Mother turns to the Sister. "Priscilla, the poor thing's probably hungry. All little boys are. After he eats something, see if you can find someplace for him to sleep."

The Sister nods. "Come on."

He hesitantly takes her hand. He knows she's a stranger, but she's a Chantry sister, and she's nice, and she smiles at him, and he's _**hungry**_. _Maybe I can just sleep here tonight, and then Papa will come get me, and Mama won't be mad anymore,_ he thinks as he follows the Sister.

**oOo**

Papa doesn't come. Maybe Papa doesn't want him anymore, either. The Revered Mother tells him it's alright. She knows somewhere he can go. Somewhere with other people who can make fire spring up on their hands. And _ice_. And_** lightning**_. His eyes get big when she tells him this, because he thought he was the only one who did that, and that was why Mama suddenly didn't want him anymore. The Mother doesn't say anything when he tells her that. Sister Priscilla smiles at him as she introduces him to a _big_ man-bigger than Papa, even-and tells him that this man, Ser Jared, is going to help him get to the place with the other people who can do what he does.

He likes Ser Jared. Ser Jared smiles at him, and musses his dark hair like Papa did, and lets him ride on his shoulders. And answers the one million and one questions he asks on the way to the Circle. Ser Jared tells him that that's the name of the place where the other people like him live.

"_All_ of them?"

"All of them."

"Wow." He can't imagine how many people that must be. The Revered Mother made it sound like an awful lot. And they all live in one place? But something else is bothering him even more.

"Ser Jared?"

"Yes?"

"What's an ab-abonimation?"

"You mean abomination?" the templar chuckles.

"Yeah. What's that?"

Ser Jared hesitates. "It's...It's an evil demon from the Fade, living in the body of a person."

"Oh." He tries not to let the hurt creep into his voice, but he can't help it.

"Where did you hear that word?"

"That's what Mama said I was b'fore Papa lef' me at the Chantry."

Ser Jared doesn't say anything.

The people at the Circle take some of his blood. They say it's so they can find him if he ever gets lost. It hurts, but he doesn't cry. He has to be brave. 'Sides, the short girl who went before him didn't cry, even though she looked scared too, and he's tougher than a _girl_.

**oOo**

He needs a friend. After two years without one, he's desperate to have someone to talk to. All the other boys are older and call him names, like 'Baby' and 'Squirt'. No one calls him an abomination, like Mama did, but the names still hurt. So when the skinny elf with skin so dark she looks like a shadow practically saunters in, eyes wide with curiosity, not cowed in the least by the presence of the templar holding her elbow, he latches onto her like a leech and follows her to the dormitory.

"Am not!" he protests when she calls him that. "Don't call me that!"

"Then what's your name, little leech?" she laughs, nudging him in the ribs and plopping down on her bed.

He hesitates, suddenly shy. "Um..."

"Come on. Tell me." She grins, tugging his sleeve so he sits next to her. "Look, if it'll make it easier, I'll go first. My name's Miri. What's yours?"

"Jowan."

_A/N: Okay, okay, I __**know**__ I'm giving Jowan ridiculous amounts of attention. I can't __**help**__ it. I'm fascinated by him as a character. And I was rereading his wiki page(again), and was knocked near senseless by the second sentence: "__**His mother thought of him as an abomination.**__" I just thought about that for a second, and it honestly made me tear up. He was essentially abandoned at the chantry, and his mother thought he was an abomination. An __**abomination.**__ Trying to figure out how a five year old would feel going through that actually made me __**cry**__. So you get this as a result. Lucky you. :) And I'll try to shut up about Jowan-outside of Aftermath at least-but I make no promises._


End file.
